


Defying Expectations

by DesertLily



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1980s, Boggarts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertLily/pseuds/DesertLily
Summary: Oliver finds a shaken Marcus conflicted about his boggart. Despite their rivalry, he does his best to help him. Not even quidditch is enough to prevent Oliver from showing a little humanity
Relationships: Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood
Comments: 3
Kudos: 120





	Defying Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> A belated birthday fic for a friend!

Stubborn, hot-headed, and competitive. Three words most people would easily use to describe Oliver Wood. It wasn’t hard to see why; the third year was always quick to throw himself into things - his dedication to his role as the keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team was proof enough of that, particularly as he was seen as a shoe-in for one day taking over the role of Captain.. One word that never seemed to come up when describing him was ‘compassionate’. Particularly towards Slytherins. Especially members of the Slytherin Quidditch team. That wasn’t to say he was unkind. No, it was quite the opposite. Oliver was kind enough to those who he considered his friends and to his fellow Gryffindors. But that compassion was almost entirely house exclusive. Sure, he was nice enough to Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws but he was downright cold in regards to any and all Slytherins. Particularly Marcus Flint, the bane of Oliver’s existence. 

It wasn't that Oliver hated Marcus. Of course he didn't hate him! He despised him. He despised his arrogant attitude. He despised his skills in Quidditch. He despised that cocky smile that always seemed to make his heart skip a beat. But most of all, Oliver hated how much Marcus Flint made him question his own sexuality. Everything had been fine and dandy until the two had the misfortune of meeting! He had been confident in his attraction to women then the Slytherin chaser had had to come along and just...fuck it all up. Great. Now, their rivalry was known to all - their mutual dislike of each other was enough to hide any semblance of a crush Oliver had on him. At least, that's what he tried to tell himself. It was easier if he told himself that. It got rid of all the complications that the two of them would have. They were opposite houses. They both played Quidditch. They were the same gender - God knew that on its own would be enough to cause a scandal. Besides, it was 1989, for crying out loud! Was it really that big of a deal if he was bisexual? But he had seen the reaction Charlie Weasley had gotten when he decided to be open to his sexuality (not that it was much of a surprise to anyone) and it filled Oliver with more than a little caution. It was probably the only thing in his life that Oliver Wood was actually cautious about. Almost everything else was done with a proud sense of pure, unbridled recklessness. 

Unsurprisingly, his cautiousness eventually began to waver. Just not in a way he had been expecting. Fourth period every other Wednesday was a study session for all Gryffindor and Hufflepuff third years. Meanwhile, the Slytherin and Ravenclaw students were in Defence Against The Dark Arts. It was a small mercy, really. Putting Gryffindor and Slytherin students together in DADA would have just been asking for trouble - both houses caused enough of that on their own. As part of the third year curriculum, they had been looking at the Boggart-Banishing spell, ridikkulus. It was a lesson that always left students feeling vulnerable. After all, facing the boggart to begin with meant showing all of your classmates your deepest and darkest fears personified. It hadn't been something Oliver had been looking forward to. Especially considering how dumb his own had been. It mad been Madame Hooch telling him he was barred from playing on the Quidditch team; that he would never be able to play professionally - that he was a failure. In a moment of pure anxiety, Oliver hadn't been able to cast the charm. At least he wasn't the only one.

As with most study periods, Oliver used it as a chance to bunk. All he had to do was sign in with whichever teacher had unluckily been put on duty, then sneak off when they weren't looking. Sometimes he snuck off in a small group of his friends, other times he snuck off on his own. This was an example of the latter. Usually, it was a chance for Oliver to lose himself in his own thoughts, or mentally work out any sort of formations or tactics that he could bring up during Quidditch practice. This was not like any other time. Oliver was pulled out of his own thoughts when he walked past the boys' bathroom on the third floor. As per usual, he had been expecting to be met with silence. Instead, he was met with the sound of crying. Oliver wasn't heartless. He couldn't bring himself to walk away. With some reluctance, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. What he saw made him falter in his step. "...Flint?"

Marcus Flint was sitting on the bathroom floor with his head between his legs as near-violent sobs escaped him. Oliver had never seen him so vulnerable before. At the sound of Oliver's voice, Flint glanced upwards. For a brief moment, his face contorted into one of panic before he tried to settle on a look of nonchalance. He didn't even remotely succeed. "...T'fuck you want, Wood?" He all but snarled at him. "Haven't you got somewhere better to be than standing their gawking at me?"

Oliver sighed in exasperation. What else exactly had he been expecting? "I'm sorry if I get concerned when I hear crying! Unlike most of your fellow Slytherins, I'm not a heartless bastard."

"Just piss off." Marcus's voice wavered in such a way that it lost almost all of its animosity. He just sounded...tired. "Whatever sort of pity you're offering, I'm not interested in it. Things are going to be bad enough without you pretending you give a shit."

Then it clicked with Oliver as to what class Marcus should have been in right now. Defence Against The Dark Arts. "...It's Boggart week, isn't it?" Flint just looked away from him in response. Despite every part of him screaming for him not to, Oliver moved to sit beside him - even if the response he got was just a harsh shove away. "There's no shame in not being able to handle it."

That only seemed to piss him off. "You weren't there! You don't get what happened, Wood! I was weak and I'm not supposed to be fucking weak! I have a reputation to uphold." The tears on his face kept flowing fiercer and fiercer in response to his anger. "You...you don't get it! How could you possibly get it?! Perfect fucking Oliver Wood that somehow manages to win almsot eveyr fucking game he plays!" That almost sounded like jealousy.

Oliver hesitated before looking at him -really looking at him. This wasn't Flint; his harsh, cold Quidditch rival. This was Marcus; a teenage boy that Oliver had more than a few feelings for; a teenage boy that was still capable of being vulnerable; a teenage boy that was probably very much in need of a friend. Well, Oliver wasn't his friend. But he was the best they had, so he figured Marcus would just have to make do. "...I couldn't do it either." That gained Marcus's attention instantly. "Mine was just...failure; the fear that everything in my life would go wrong and somehow I'd be no one. I...I froze up. I could barely move." In any other circumstances, he wouldn't have spoken a word about the incident but maybe...maybe Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint finally had a way of understanding each other.

"...Mine was You-Know-Who." Voldemort. The Dark Lord who had overwhelmed the Wizarding World with his reign of terror. He couldn't blame Marcus for him being his Boggart - he was the Boggart for a lot of people. Though, he hadn't heard of many Slytherin students having it as an issue - far too many of them came from families of former Death Eaters for that. As far as he was aware, Marcus had come from one of those families too. "The fear he would come back and ruin everything all over again. Last time, my parents joined willingly - my dad's still in Azkaban for it. But now my older sister's old enough to be roped into it all and I have a little brother now. He's...He's just a kid, Wood. I don't want any of them to go through this." For once, Oliver didn't have anything to say. "I...I just couldn't handle it. So I ran and now I'm telling you all of this and fuck knows why I'm telling you all of this!"

"Probably because no one would believe me if I said you told me about this?" Oliver suggested with a slight smile.

Marcus let out a shaky laugh at that, resting his head on Oliver's shoulder. "Y'know something? For a Gryffindor, you're not too bad, Wood."

"And for a Slytherin, you're almost tolerable, Flint." It was the closest to civil that the two had ever been. It wasn't anything special yet. But it was certainly a start.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Harry Potter fic and I'm honestly really happy with how it turned out! Love it? Hate it? Comments are always appreciated! Or hmu @ desert-lily on tumblr!


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